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I was watching the evening news a few minutes ago with Sasha curled up next to me on the love seat. During the commercial break I got bored and started acting silly with the cat. Repeating a game of pretend I indulged in as a child I held one hand out flat with the thumb and little finger extended and--Voila!--I had a fighter plane. I flew the plane overhead and made the proper airplane noises with my lips.
Sasha looked at me and looked at the plane and put her ears back. So I dive-bombed her and made machine gun noises with my lips just as when I was a little kid. Yes, Tek, I was once a little kid. Traces still remain, obviously.
Sasha twitched and fidgeted and ducked her head when the plane came too close. Suddenly I dived straight at her in a vicious aerial attack; just as suddenly she let out a screech and leaped straight up, wrapped all four paws around the plane, sank all claws in up to the hilt at once, then tried to disembowel the aircraft by slashing vigorously with her hind legs, while simultaneously chewing on the hapless pilot's head.
My comments wouldn't have helped the sale of a children's Sunday School textbook much. I managed to sling her off, along with quite a bit of hide (mine), whereupon she dove under the sofa and lay there snarling and hisspitting at me.
Traveller let out a yowl and rolled off the dining table where he was napping and lay there on the floor rolling around and holding his sides. Willoughby wet his knickers and ran down the overhead walkway to Mama's office. Mac just wagged his tail; the cats were in trouble again, which cheered him immensely.
Never a dull moment.
Editor's note:
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